


appetite

by domesticatedantelope (vaultie_glass)



Series: power couple [9]
Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Swallowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:30:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultie_glass/pseuds/domesticatedantelope
Summary: The one where Colt and Mercy christen the front door.





	appetite

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 1: cunnilingus, swallowing

There are better places for this.

If he were a more patient man, or more considerate, he’d take her somewhere comfortable - but right now, he is neither of those things.

He’s on his knees and he is _starving_.

And Mercy - she looks good enough to eat.

Squirming and pinned against the front door, fingers wound into his hair, the sound of his name breathy on her voice (_Colt, Colt,_ soft gospel syllables, nobody says it like she does) and further fraying as he claims her inner thighs with teeth and tongue. Pink flush paints her cheekbones, shyness and excitement, shadow of a smile curling at the corner of her mouth. 

“Here?” she asks, too innocent, like he might forgive her all the longing looks and teasing kisses. 

Mercy is _her _lot in life, not his; Colt has hunger pangs and sweet tooth cravings and an instinct to retaliate, and he is not one to deny his nature.

“You’re lucky we made it this far,” he tells her, smirking as he shoves her dress above her hips.

She tips her head back and laughs, shaky sighs that fast unravel when his mouth reaches the lace between her thighs. He feels the shiver rattle through her, liquid heat beneath his tongue, thumbing her thong aside to taste where she is warm and wet with slick. 

Mercy stiffens, whimpers, tensing in her hips and legs. She tugs his hair between her fingers, hard enough to sting and draw a groan from somewhere in his lungs as his tongue maps practiced circles in against her clit. She sucks her lip as if she might stifle her growing whine, but it breaks loose and sings like music in his ears. His head spins, dizzied by her voice, the silk and taste of her against his tongue. 

Her muscles flex and start to tremble, one leg slotting into place over his shoulder, locking him against her. A savage sense of pride swells in his chest, and he indulges himself with the soft span of her thighs, kissing and biting while his fingers rise between them, seeking, finding, pushing in to fill her. 

“O-oh, _god_, that’s-!” Spasms wrack her hips, the sole of her boot slipping and losing traction as she scrabbles to drag him closer. “So _good_, Colt, please!”

He fucks his fingers deeper in slow increments, waiting to hear her beg before obliging her with more, the flat of his tongue keeping languid pace. Eventually the borders of her words dissolve away and she can only mouth at vowels, voice split into pleading sounds. He feels the points of her nails scoring lines into his shoulder, precious little pains that barely hurt at all; some nights, she leaves her mark in reddened arcs across his back, where they sting for days and days. Need throbs down from that biting pain to the stiff, twitching weight of his cock, aching for friction. 

“_Pleasepleaseplease_,” releases through her teeth, the tension gripping her in waves and waning off to shudders, climbing just to fall again. Telltale moans catch in her throat, and she rocks shakily against his mouth, gasping when his lips round to pull gently at her clit. 

Colt lifts his gaze to watch her features twist with bliss, crooking his fingers, groaning at the wet, soft heat of her around them. She’s close, breakneck on a collision course, and babbling as she nears climax, breathless professions of her love, and his heart pounds in his chest with every frantic sighing of his name.

He rolls his tongue, his fingertips nudging against that tender point inside of her, and with the last hitch of her hips, Mercy unravels. Climax seizes her in phases: hands clenched into fists, white at the knuckles as she sobs and arches back against the door. “_Yes, yes, fuck_,” lifts and stutters on her tongue, and she clings to him with shaking hands, shattered and panting when the height of her rush breaks and fades away. 

She slumps to her knees, abruptly drained of strength, shaping a pool of weightless limbs against the floor. Aftershocks still shiver in her body, and she watches him with lidded eyes, flashing a tipsy smile as he swipes a hand over his mouth. 

“Couldn’t make it to the bed?” she rasps, tracing a thumb across his bottom lip.

“Some things can’t wait.” 

Her eyes are dark and satisfied as they drag lovingly down the length of his body, lingering where he is hard and waiting for her, and she doesn’t say as much, but her smile seems to agree. Determination hardens in her features, and that wicked glance is all the warning he gets before she shoves him back against the wall. Her fingers tremble at the buckle of his belt, her cheeks still flushed from coming when she dips her mouth to kiss the muscles in his stomach, tense beneath the skin. Slim fingers trace the shape of him, teasing at pressure, the warmth of her breath sinking through his clothes. Her lips lift the length of his cock, pausing to suck softly at the swollen head, and then she’s slipping his pants down and he is flush against the wet heat of her mouth, her lips closing to draw him in over the soft pink of her tongue.

Blazing pleasure claws up through his nerves. He fights to keep his eyes open, to watch as Mercy holds his gaze and takes him deeper, tears welling at her lashes when he nudges at the tight grasp of her throat, then even deeper, and she shouldn’t, doesn’t have to, but _oh god_, he is helpless to stop her, rendered weak and speechless with each torturous curl of her tongue around him. 

His cock glistens when she retreats, slicking a hand around the base of him and dragging wrings of friction that make stars appear behind his eyelids, pleasure hooking deep beneath his gut and winding tighter, glimpsing into something just beyond his reach. The sound of her name falters on his voice, one hand weaving gingerly into the silk threads of her hair, and it takes all of his restraint not to grip down and _fuck _into that tempting heat, his fingers twitching restlessly with need.

Mercy normally maintains a certain order of appearance, type A to the letter, and it thrills him to no end that he’s left her in such delicious disarray, the curtain of her hair messied and free, her dress rucked thoughtlessly aside, her mouth - oh, _fuck, her mouth_ \- swollen and wet and sealing into that breathtaking fit around his cock. He drinks in all the angles of her face, losing her features to a blissful blur as scorching heat rives into him, and he can only whine her name out through his teeth. 

Her lips sink tight around him, and she _sucks_, kneading with perfect suction, knots of pleasure twisting in the pit of his gut. Every part of him feels taut with tension, riding on the edge of an oblivion that threatens to swallow him whole, and with the taste of her still warm and slick at the back of his tongue, he gasps a ragged _fuck _and jerks and comes into the cavern of her mouth.

Blindly, he feels her tongue tracing around him, sucking through the lightning flashes of his climax, persisting even when the peak fades into overstimulation, and he pleads her, “Mercy, _Mercy, please_,” wracked with shivers as she finally releases him.

He staggers half a step back, swaying on his feet. Heaving for breath, he reaches out to curl a hand beneath her jaw, leading her face up with a firm tilt of his fingers.

Mercy needs no further guidance. She parts her lips and lets her mouth fall open to expose where he has spilled in pools of white across her tongue.

A wounded noise hooks in his throat. He stares, spellbound, some filthy, sinful part of him roaring with satisfaction at the sight - his cum in Mercy’s mouth, his frenzied heartbeat deafening between his ears, and every pulse echoes with certainty: _she’s mine, she’s mine, she’s mine._

At the gentle prompting of his touch under her chin, she seals her lips and swallows, throat working as she takes him down her throat. Afterward, her tongue curls out to lick the wet line of her lips, tasting the last trace of him before a shy but bliss-dazed smile lights her face.

Feeling his knees wobble, Colt sinks down to the floor, sighing when cold tiles cool his overheated skin. With a pleased little hum, Mercy wiggles her way into his arms, sketching unsteady fingers at the ink of his tattoo. They sprawl together on the floor, two steps from the front door, and if he had the strength, he’d bring her to their bed, where she can bask in afterglow among the comfort of their sheets. 

But Mercy threads her fingers through his hair, whispers “_I love you_,” soft against his ear, a secret just between the two of them, and for the moment, there is nowhere else he’d rather be.


End file.
